


Wildflower

by Jennie_D



Series: Becoming New [14]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Jesus Christ this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wildling Jon Snow, Wildlings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 03:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20686865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennie_D/pseuds/Jennie_D
Summary: It felt a thousand years since Jon had last seen spring.As the hills became ever greener and a tapestry of yellow wildflowers spread over the fields, Jon found awe overwhelming him.





	Wildflower

**Author's Note:**

> This is almost too fluffy. It's borderline ridiculous. I need to write something intense to counteract it. Inspired by current sleep deprivation.

Sunrise shone off tiny blades of grass wet with melting snow. Birdsong sounded through the dawn. The air smelled fresh and sweet.

Spring had come to the true north, faster than any of the Free Folk had expected. And with spring came excitement.

They were used to living under ice and snow, but after so much hardship and death, they all welcomed the warmth, the beauty, the respite from the cold. The entire camp buzzed with promise.

Jon savored it, savored the joy of his clan and the smell of fresh grass and the sunshine kissing his skin. He savored the sounds of animals in the underbrush and Ghost’s puppyish glee and the warm weather lust that had struck Tormund hard.

It felt a thousand years since Jon had last seen spring. For so long, Jon believed he’d never see spring again, believed he’d never live to feel the air warm and the land turn kind again. As the hills became ever greener and a tapestry of yellow wildflowers spread over the fields, Jon found _awe_ overwhelming him. He’d run his hands over tree trunks, swim in the cold clear streams, run in wolfskin and let himself become wild in the wood.

When Jon first journeyed beyond the Wall, he’d felt swallowed by the ice cold landscape. Felt like winter here could sink it’s teeth to his bones and leave nothing alive. But he’d grown to truly appreciate the frozen wild, had started to revel in brisk air and the refreshing cut of the wind.

And now with this beautiful blooming of spring, Jon felt the lands beyond the Wall were romancing him.

Jon had had fallen in love. He had fallen in love with this wild, beautiful place and everything within it.

And he had fallen in love with someone else too.

Under bright morning light, Tormund delighted in showing Jon the blossoming true North. He’d point out animals and birds, guided Jon through which plants and mushrooms were safe to eat, showed him the tracks of immense animals beyond any southerner’s imagining.

And the wildflowers. Tormund seemed to have a special fondness for wildflowers.

He’d bring fresh blooms back to their home and braided them into Jon’s long hair. Once, after Tormund had won a round of axe-sparring, he’d woven a crown and had laughingly named Jon his “champion of love and beauty.” But most of all, Tormund seemed to just love showing them off, teaching Jon which blossom was which. Apparently each flower had not only a name, but a legend, and Tormund shared them eagerly.

In the south, Jon knew, this love of flowers would have been regarded by small minded men as childish or feminine. The Free Folk had no use for such ridiculous judgements. It was simple to scoff in a land where flowers grew so easily. But what did those who had never tasted winter truly know of loving spring? There was no shame in the true north in loving something beautiful.

* * *

“And this one, little wolf, is said to be very lucky.”

Tormund spun a little yellow flower in his fingers as they lay in tall green grass. Jon was chewing absently on a long blade of it, a small smile playing at his lips.

“You see,” Tormund continued, “as the flower dies, it’s petals become wispy white wings that carry new seeds across the ground. If you find one, blow on it to scatter the seeds, and the gods may grant you a boon.”

“Truly? We could have used a few of those when we were facing an endless army of dead men.”

Tormund huffed, but still he grinned. “Don’t joke, little wolf. Wishes are precious things.”

He leaned over and tucked the yellow flower behind Jon’s ear. Jon thrilled at the feel of Tormund’s fingers brushing through his hair.

Then Tormund stood suddenly and began scanning the ground intently, pushing grass aside and squinting at the dirt.

“Tor, what are you doing? Come sit back down with me.”

“Give me a damn second, little wolf, I need to find - there!”

Tormund straightened up triumphantly, a stem with a ball of white fluff on its end clutched in one hand.

He eager bounded back over to Jon and threw himself down beside him, shoving the dead flower into Jon’s face.

“Take it, blow on it, ask the gods for some good fortune.”

Jon looked at the flower skeptically. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m curious to hear what you’d ask for.”

Jon gently took the stem from Tormund’s hands. “It feels almost greedy to ask the gods for more fortune given that I’ve survived so long beyond reason.”

Tormund rolled his eyes. “Just give it a wish, no need to brood over it.”

Jon laughed, then closed his eyes to think on his wish. He opened them quickly. He knew, without thinking, what he wished for.

“Well don’t keep the gods waiting, little wolf, get on with it!”

“Alright then, no need to get impatient.” Jon smiled, then pursued his lips. He blew gently, and a hundred white strands lit upon the air. They were twirled this way and that by a brisk breeze, and as they spun in morning light, Jon was struck again by the splendor of this place he now called home.

“Well, what did you ask for then?” Tormund’s voice was impatient, curious.

Jon grinned. “South of the Wall we have an old superstition. Never tell anyone what wishes you've made, else it might not come true.”

“Oh godsdamnit all you little shit,” Tormund said grinning, poking Jon in the ribs. Jon laughed and they struggled for a moment. Then Jon caught Tormund’s hands and, with a soft smile at his lips, drew him closer for a kiss.

_I wished for this,_ Jon thought as they came together. _I wished to spend the rest of my days in this land by your side._


End file.
